أرشيف لـفبراير, 2008

Today I heard the news from Sasha, I will avoid the trivial question of why, I will avoid all the hopeless mourning of how, but I need to know where, God I need to know where. I need to know where is the sense and logic of crossing her life with mine and Sasha’a like this, and then changing her direction like that, in a road, where neither me nor Sasha will be able to follow.. Where can I find her now? How can I tell her “it’s okay” and at the same time realize to my self that, indeed, it is okay for people like her do exist, and that I am not alone, and that my experience and hers are of one color? How can I find her, take her hand and show her my secret places in the womb of Damascus, where when those dark days came once, I found shelter? She would have shared these small spots with me, and neither of us would have felt alone.. How can find her and laugh with her now, tell her my small details of adventure, and ask her about hers, and laugh, just laugh with her? Why did happen this way? Why did she come and go from my life so fast, untraced, uncolored, and unshaped?

Where is she now?

How can I tell her that, without having spoken to her, she became a close figure?

I know you will remain silent, dear God. I know my questions are non of your specialty, but in a moment of weakness, my sudden shock and need for answers retained my primitive belief in you. Where else should I go with all this unexplained pain I feel.

And.. Dear Nathalie,

Can you hear me? Do you read me? I am sure you do..

It is in such strange way in life that me and you orally met, I’m just a name to you as much as you are to me, but more over, this name had a body, and it was reflected in my own mirror. I have no clue, maybe it’s the fact of art, and maybe it’s the fact that you are in Tunis right now, that I feel what I feel at this moment, but further than that, I cannot explain such shock the news about you caused, and then the news about your departure, also caused. Why didn’t we have the chance? Why didn’t you tell me the story of that day, when you were shocked with how art rejected you? Or that story of the other day, when your sacred privacies were violated, and you had then to stand for your self, and feel alone for the rest of the world? You know, you wouldn’t have needed to share these with me, I was there, and by the moment I heard these stories uttered by someone else I felt that, I shouldn’t have felt alone, you shouldn’t have.. I felt that I wanted to tell you about all the other stories, all the other days, even those dull and empty details of my most senseless days.. I felt I wanted to seek your advice in most trivial matters and choices, but also in my deepest, you think I should go on? I should leave? You maybe wouldn’t have given the answer, but surely have given the relief of listening. I wanted to ask you about Tunis, about your favorite color, about your favorite sort of art, I wanted to ask you about you, and about me. I feel desperate and broken, not having known enough about you to tell now, to tell the world, and to tell to my self, why was it so fast Nath? What can I say to my self now having hoped I found a sister the day I meet you? A true sister?